True American
by elizabethj88
Summary: Dean leaves Sam and the reader alone while he runs errands, and the reader gets bored. Shenanigans ensue, and Dean comes back to chaos. Sam x Reader (friendship) Dean x Reader


You weren't sure how it happened. One minute, you and Sam were researching in the library while Dean ran errands, and the next minute you were jumping from chairs, to pillows, to tables while trying to avoid the lava on the floor, shouting nonsense, and shot gunning beer. If you took the time to think about it, you could probably pinpoint the exact moment that things got slightly out of hand.

You had been sitting across from Sam, bored out of your mind and trying to read the book he had insisted you look at, when you snuck your phone and earbuds out of your pocket. You cast a sly glance at Sam, then slipped the earbuds in, and propped the phone behind the stack of books that sat neatly in between the two of you. After a moment of browsing, you selected one of your favorite shows, making sure to turn pages on occasion as to not arouse suspicion. (You were nothing if not theatrical) You managed to get three episodes in before you gave yourself away by snorting at a particularly funny line, and Sam had glanced up sharply.

"What was that?" he asked, brow raised.

You smiled innocently. "What was what? I didn't hear anything."

"Y/N…" Sam reached over and gently plucked the earbuds out. You had forgotten your hair was pulled back and that your long hair wasn't camouflaging them like you thought. So much for being sneaky.

You grimaced. "Balls."

Sam looked at you disapprovingly. "We're supposed to be researching, you have to take that seriously."

You rolled your eyes. "Come _on_. It's Friday night, Sam. We don't even have a case." You pouted, hoping that it would convince the younger Winchester into giving in. He slowly closed his book, looked at you for a moment, then reached around and snatched your phone.

"New Girl? That's a pretty good show. What else do you like to watch?"

* * *

And that…well, that was where the night took a turn. After discovering that Sam liked watching the show almost as much as you did (you were almost positive it was because he thought Jess was hot, although he vehemently denied it) the two of you had abandoned the books for a couple of beers and were sitting on the couch talking about New Girl and all the other things Sam liked to watch that you didn't know about. Somehow one beer turned into two, and then two turned into three. And right about then was when you had a brilliant idea.

"Sam! Let's play True American!"

He looked at you, confused. "Huh? It's not even a real game, and they don't even give us all the rules. And," he gestured around the room, "there's only two of us." You stood up, suddenly very determined, and put your hands on your hips.

"Sam Winchester, are you saying that you don't want to play True American with me? Is big, bad Sammy Winchester scared of losing?" You took off running to the kitchen, and you could hear his heavy footsteps following quickly behind. He found you digging through the fridge to see how much beer you had.

"We don't even know the rules!" You started stacking cans on the counter, and once the fridge was empty, you began searching for the liquor.

"Oh, I forgot! This bunker is ill-equipped and we don't have the internet." You slapped a hand against your forehead and sighed dramatically. "Whatever shall we do?" You threw a glance at him and laughed when you saw a bitch face that rivaled the ones normally reserved for Dean. "Oh, c'mon Sam!" He glared at you a moment longer, then pulled out his phone. He looked surprised when he found a WikiHow page dedicated to playing True American, complete with illustrations.

"Well, it looks like you got the beer covered," he looked up when you cleared your throat and saw you holding a bottle of Makers Mark, "and the liquor. So now we need to set up the castle, I guess?"

You grinned. "Great! Help me carry all these cans into the living room!"

* * *

The two of you made quick work of pulling the coffee table to the center of the room, and then rearranging all the furniture and pillows in their respective zones. When you noticed you didn't have enough spaces, you split up to search the bunker for more things to safely stand on, and by the time you got everything you needed, the living room was a perfect True American arena. You stood back and grinned at your handiwork, hands resting on your hips.

"Look at that! That is a show worthy playing field, Winchester!"

Sam laughed, "Yea, it is." He looked proudly at the table in the center, "Probably the best True American castle ever built."

You snorted, "You bet it is, champ." You fanned yourself, already hot from the combination of dragging furniture all over and the alcohol you had already consumed. "I'm going to change clothes, these are too hot. And if I'm going to kick your ass, I need to be comfortable."

Sam laughed, "Kick my ass? I think not, Y/L/N. Meet you back here in five."

* * *

Five minutes later, you and Sam were staring at each other from across the 'castle'. Both of you had changed into shorts and a t shirt, and you had to stifle a laugh when you noticed Sam had pulled his hair back into a man bun. He noticed you giggling and shot a glare in your direction.

"Laugh all you want, Y/N. We'll see who's laughing after I kick your ass." You crossed your arms.

"You talk big, Winchester, but the bigger you are, the harder you fall." He rolled his eyes.

"That…that didn't even make sense. Come on, let's go. Rock, paper, scissors for who starts." You smiled inwardly. If you knew anything about the brothers, it was that Dean always threw scissors when playing rock, paper, scissors, and because of _that_ Sam always threw rock.

"Fine. Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!" You threw paper, and Sam groaned.

You smiled, "Always with the rock, Sammy boy. Alrighty then…here we go. 1, 2, 3 JFK!" you shouted, shortly followed by Sam bellowing.

"FDR!" Both of you lunged for a beer and immediately you jumped up onto the couch. Sam ended up on a chair in the opposite corner.

"And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend-"

"Legend became myth. And for two and a half thousand years, the ring passed out of all knowledge!" Sam shouted gleefully. He hopped from the chair to a pillow on the floor, then nimbly jumped over to an ottoman. He took a swig from his beer and winked at you.

You sighed, "Dammit."

* * *

The game continued, the two of you moving back and forth, yelling movie and television quotes, occasionally throwing out the random obscenity as your footing became a little less stable or because one of you stole the place the other was planning on moving to. Just as Sam was about jump from the couch to the center of one of the zones to grab another beer, the door to the bunker flew open and Dean stomped in, shaking rain out of his hair. Distracted, Sam lost his balance and landed on the bare floor. You screamed in victory.

"LAVA. YOU ARE IN THE LAVA. I WIN!" Sam jumped up and grabbed a fresh beer off the table.

"NOPE. You don't win that easily, not today!" He shot gunned it, and beer sprayed all over him and the floor. He slammed it on the coffee table and crushed the aluminum can in one shot. "HA! Now tell me where to go."

You glared at him, "Oh, I'll tell you where to go…" Your threat was interrupted by Dean as he slowly walked the rest of the way into the living room and stared slack jawed at the mess he'd come home to.

"What…? I _just_ cleaned in here, dammit! Did you go in my room for anything?" You threw your arms wide to welcome him home, and nearly fell off the end table you were standing on.

"Deano! Absolutely not! I would _never_ go in your room-" Dean held his hand up to stop you.

"That is my shirt, Y/N."

You glanced down and snickered, "I did go in your room. That doesn't matter! Old stories are like old friends, she used to say-"

"What the hell, Y/N?" he interrupted, frowning slightly. You grinned impishly at him.

"Wrong!" you shouted as you threw a beer at him, "now chug!" He caught and cracked it open in the same movement, then chugged it.

"Are you guys playing True American?" Sam looked at him in surprise.

"Dude, how did you know?" Dean grinned evilly and walked over to grab another beer.

"Let's Star Trek IV this bitch," he exclaimed as he jumped up on a chair in the corner opposite of where you were. You grinned widely, surprised that he was really going to play, and pointed at where you wanted Sam to go.

"Move, moose! Dean, go!"

* * *

By the time you were down to the three pawns, Sam was starting to slow down. He was determined to stay in, but you could tell that it was only a matter of time before he bowed out. Dean, on the other hand, was going strong. He was amazing at quotes, and you were beginning to wonder if you were going to lose this game after all. To be fair, you'd become a bit distracted. You had been burying thoughts of Dean for several months, knowing that it could never happen. So far, you had been doing well but tonight the more you drank, the harder it was to ignore him. But True American was serious business, and it was time to get your head back into the game. It was his turn to give another quote, and you waited anxiously. If you could beat him to finishing it, it would put you right next to the castle and all you had to do was get those last three pawns out of the way. Dean started to give his quote when you heard a rustle and Cas popped up in the middle of the zones.

"Cas, you're in the lava!" you practically screamed, startling the angel.

"What…lava…I don't understand?" His blue eyes looked around, concerned. Dean started pointing wildly at the couch.

"Get on the couch, dude! On the couch! You're gonna lose if you stay in the lava!" Instead of moving, he kept looking between the three of you.

"There isn't lava, are you three okay? How long have you been hallucinating this lava? Why didn't you call me?" Sam was choking back laughter as Cas walked over to you and put his hand to your forehead, his brow crinkled as he concentrated. "You're warm, Y/N. Maybe you should lay down." You couldn't contain your laughter anymore, and the angel looked hurt at your blatant disregard of his concern. While Cas was distracted, Sam took two beers off the table and tossed one to Dean, then another to you as Cas turned to face Dean.

"Hey Cas, your scientists were so preoccupied with whether they could that they didn't stop to think if they should." Cas titled his head and narrowed his eyes at Dean.

"I don't understand that reference." Before he could react, all three of you tossed a beer at him and simultaneously shouted.

"CHUG!" Cas looked between the three of you, then at the beer that had splattered his trench coat, and then was gone.

Dean howled with laughter, "Did you see his face? Oh man, that was…that was good." He wiped a tear from his eye. "Whoooo….that was too worth it. Hope he didn't need anything important." He cleared his throat and looked at you, then at the castle. "It's up to you, Y/N, there's only one pawn left and you're the closest. You don't get this, I could take the win. Ready?"

You narrowed your eyes, "Over my dead body, Winchester."

He smirked, "Fine, then. We're ten hours from the fucking fun park and you want to bail out. Well I'll tell you something. This is-"

"-no longer a vacation. It's a quest. It's a quest for fun!" you practically screeched. Dean had apparently forgotten your love of National Lampoon movies, and had picked the perfect one.

Dean groaned, "Dammit!" You jumped from the chair you'd been perched on to the pillow in front of the castle and grabbed the last pawn. Sam went to take a sip of beer and remembered that that was the can he'd thrown at Cas. He looked over to the table in hopes of grabbing another one and saw that all of them were now gone. Dean realized what was happening and fist pumped. "Yea Sammy, you're outta here! You can't get back in without a pawn."

"But tha's not very fair, is it? What if I jus' go into the kitchen and get another?" he slurred. You raised an eyebrow.

"Do you really want to do that? Your eyes are barely open." He blinked lazily, his cheeks flushed, and grinned.

"Ha…probably not. I concede this time, Y/L/N. Next time, I'ma kick your ass." He sauntered off slowly, slightly weaving as he turned to go towards his room. Dean looked back at you, his eyes sparkling.

"Looks like it's just the two of us now, sweetheart. You wanna just forfeit, call it a day?" You popped open the beer and took a swig.

"Winchester, that'll be the day. Do you see how close I am to victory? What makes you think that I'm going to give up now?" You were trying very hard to concentrate. You had been drinking for a while, and you could feel the heat on your cheeks. Dean was only a move away from making it to the castle. If he finished your quote, you were done. You stood for a moment and just looked at him. He had kicked off his boots and removed his flannel, and whenever he moved from spot to spot, you could see the little strip of skin between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his jeans. Right now, he was staring back at you, and you realized that your quick glance had turned into a full-blown gawk.

"You gonna go or what?"

You blinked slowly, "Oh, yea, I'm just thinking of a good one." An idea comes to you. It's a dangerous one, one that could cost you the game, but you were willing to risk it. Because if you could win using this quote, you'd never let Dean hear the end of it. "I want him dead, I want his house burnt to the ground, I want to go to his house and piss on his ashes!" Dean opened his mouth halfway through your sentence, but then his eyes widened and he stayed silent. You realized as soon as he started opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water that you had him. He recognized it, he knew exactly what it was, yet he couldn't remember it.

"No!" You grabbed the bottle of Maker's Mark, cracked the seal, and thrust it in the air in victory.

"Know what that was from, Deano?" You took a swig of the bourbon and relished the burn as it slid down your throat. You were feeling brave, so you took a couple of steps toward Dean as you took another shot of bourbon straight from the bottle. The thought of regret in the morning crossed your mind, but you ignored it in favor of what the liquid courage was going to get you tonight if you played your cards right. He raised an eyebrow but stayed perched on the back of the chair he had previously been standing on. You stopped when you got to the front of the chair, looked him dead in the eye, and took another swig of bourbon.

"Do you really not remember what movie? It's one of your favorites." You put your knees in the seat of the chair, in between his feet, and leaned in close enough that your lips were barely brushing his ear. "You wanna get Capone? Here's how you get him. He pulls a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue! That's the Chicago way," you whispered.

Dean groaned, "The Untouchables….how did I not remember that?"

You grinned, "I took a chance. Maybe you were just distracted." Dean pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and sighed.

"Yea…distracted." His hand slid to the back of your neck and he pulled you into him, his lips soft against yours. You could feel his fingers intertwine with your hair as he pulled you closer. You'd imagined this moment a thousand times and nothing even held a candle to this.

Dean pulled back and muttered, "Sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"I'm not." You hopped off the chair, sat the bourbon on the coffee table, and started to make your way back to the bedrooms. Dean stood there watching after you until you turned around and winked at him. "You comin', Winchester?" You disappeared around the corner and by the time he caught up to you, you had stopped in front of his door. He watched as you took a deep breath, then pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in just a bra and shorts. "I believe this belongs to you," you said, grinning. He walked right up to you, closer than you'd been before, and stared at you for a moment.

"How drunk are you?"

"Drunk enough to know that I want to do this. Not so drunk that you should feel guilty about taking advantage." Dean searched your face for a moment, trying to decide if he believed you, then kissed you again.

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that," he sighed, leaning his forehead against yours.

You smiled, "I can probably guess." The smile he gave you in return was bright, and you couldn't help but notice how he was looking at you. Your calculated risk earlier not only won you the game, but also the oldest Winchester. As he picked you up and carried you into his room, you made up your mind to play True American with him more often.


End file.
